


Just One Dance

by HardiganCaptain



Category: The Take (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 07:38:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HardiganCaptain/pseuds/HardiganCaptain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just had to give Freddie a go, and now I think I'm stuck with him too... W e l p</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just One Dance

You’d known he was a bad idea the first time those eyes had run along your body. The way he’d sniffed, lifting a hand to run the back of it under his nose to clear the hint of white powder staining his upper lip. The way his mouth had opened, his tongue lightly tracing his lower lip before taking a drag off of the cigar pinched between the knuckles of fingers that were glinting with tasteless gold rings.

A very terrible, horrible, no good, bad idea. One that you had firmly pushed to the back of your mind even as you’d watched him slink his way through the crowd.

“Hey!” the word dragged out as his mouth had curled into a broad grin, his body settling beside yours, the bar against his lower back.

“No.” one word, very simple, understood in a multitude of languages but you’d watched as his brow had furrowed in confusion.

“What you mean no? I ain’t even asked you nothin’ yet!”

“Whatever it is, I don’t care, the answer is no.” Everyone knew him, Little Freddie Jackson, wanna be hard criminal, careless thug. You wanted nothing to do with him, or the drugs that he seemed to be able to pull from his coat pocket like a magician’s handkerchief.

“Not even one little dance?” he’d whined, still smiling as he tucked his arms up to wriggle his hips. “Just one and I’ll leave you alone, honest.”

”N. O. Which part of that didn’t you get?”

“Why you bein’ like this? Plenty of slags would kill for a chance to be in my company. You a bit mental? Is that it?” There was anger flashing in his eyes, his mercurial mood shifting gears fast enough you’d blinked up at the venom of his words.

“Callin’ me a slag, isn’t going to help your case.” you’d turned your attention back to the tumbler in your hand, lifting it to take a slow sip as you’d stared straight ahead trying not to show the shiver that’d run down your spine when you’d caught the flash of his gun’s grip sticking out of his pants.

“I’ll call you whatever I like,” he’d growled, one arm resting on the bar as he’d leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear, his voice smoothing. “Come with me, just one dance, and then if you want to go then you can go.”

“Look, Freddie, I don’t want to dance with you alrig-“

Before you’d finished your sentence he’d yanked you out of the chair and out onto the floor. The crush of people had surrounded you making it hard to breathe, the rings on his hand had dug into your fingers as he’d gripped your hand to lift it, turning you in a rapid spin before pulling you back against him sharply. You’d been unable to move away at first, your head spinning, but the dig of his gun pressing into your back had been enough incentive if the way his hips were grinding against you wasn’t.

An open mouth kiss slid over your shoulder as he wrapped an arm around your waist, taking a long pull of his cigar, his palm smoothing over your stomach. Elbowing him in the stomach, you’d twisted out of his grip, and started pushing your way through the bodies around you. You were surprised to find yourself looking at a brick wall instead of the bar when you finally escaped the mob, blinking at it stupidly before turning around and trying to find where you’d gone wrong.

“Here now, where you think you’re going? The song ain’t over yet!”

You’d muttered curses beneath your breath when he’d emerged, the chains that peeked out from the opening of his shirt almost blinding in the lights that swirled around the room. You made a move to push past him, heedless of where you were actually going and only hoping it would lead you back to the bar. His hand had caught your arm, pulling you back to shove you against the wall.

“I said we weren’t done.” the words had been friendly enough but the smile was a twisted curl of his lips, the light danced in eyes that were glaring.

Scoffing you’d given him a hard shove, your hands pressed against his chest only to take back the step you’d made when the nose of the gun had tapped you lightly on the chin. Eyes wide you’d stared at him in disbelief, your mouth falling open.

“Not done with you by half. On your knees.”

“What?!”

“On. Your. Knees.” his hand curled around your shoulder giving you a hard shove that you’d been unprepared for, letting out a sound of surprise when your knees had hit the unforgiving cement. “That’s better. Now get to work on that zipper.”

You’d been to slow apparently, staring up at him still fighting the shock that was rolling through your body. The muzzle of the gun pressed against your temple, prodding until you’d tilted your head just to get a reprieve from the pressure.

“Zipper.” he’d drawled, turning his head to keep an eye on you while he’d taken another draw from his cigar. “C’mon you slag, I ain’t got all night.”

Still resisting you’d lowered your gaze, looking around his thigh in hopes that someone would notice what was going on. But his bulk hid the gun from view, and every one was too busy dancing to even notice the two of you tucked up against the wall. Your hands shook, more from anger than fear, as you worked the belt loose and unfastened his pants.

“What a good girl you are,” he purred, trailing the nose of the gun along the side of your face, the cool metal making you shiver. “You bite me and I swear you won’t be walking out, you get me?”

You weren’t ready for the way his hips had thrust forward the moment you’d pulled him from his pants, the half hard cock filling your mouth as he’d let out a low groan. Cigar ash rained down on your head as he’d palmed the back of your head holding you there as he hardened. You’d struggled when you couldn’t breathe, your nose pressed against his pubic bone painfully before he pulled back to thrust in again. Tears filled your eyes, your jaw aching as he thrusted, fingers tangling in your hair, rings catching strands of it.

When he was close he pulled back just far enough the head rested on your tongue, tucking the gun back into the waistband of his pants to stroke himself to completion. Gagging at the bitter taste that coated your tongue you’d tried to spit it out only to have his palm slap over your mouth, fingers squeezing into your cheeks.

“You swallow that down, don’t you know ladies have more class than to spit in public?”

Stomach heaving you managed to get it to the back of your throat before it felt like it was going to make you sick. His eyebrows had gone up in silent question, giving your head a shake, as he tsked impatiently.

“C’mon now, bottoms up!”

Swallowing, you shoved his hand away, stumbling to your feet and grabbing the first drink you found not caring what it was as long as it could chase the taste from your mouth. Flat beer, so horrible it almost made you throw up but you tilted the glass back and drained it before letting it fall empty onto the table.

“I would have bought you a chaser, baby. All you had to do was ask.”


End file.
